


f r o z e n

by SomeRainMustFall



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Bad Things Happen Bingo, Concussions, Gen, Gil Arroyo Whump, Head Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Hypothermia, Malcolm Bright Whump, locked in a freezer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:14:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23246098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomeRainMustFall/pseuds/SomeRainMustFall
Summary: “Bright,” Gil manages. “JT and Dani are chasing the other lead. I was your backup. They don’t know we’re here.”“That’s the bad news,” Malcolm says. “There's always bad news. But...they should find us before we freeze to death, right?”"Yeah," Gil replies finally. "Yeah, I'm...I'm sure they will."×Bad Things Happen Bingo 'locked in a freezer' square.
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664860
Comments: 39
Kudos: 185





	f r o z e n

Gil opens his eyes, and doesn’t know where he is. 

His head aches. He reaches up to rub the palm of his hand against his temple, wincing at it when he sees blood.

“Gil!” 

There’s a crash from the other side of the room, and Gil startles, starts to try to get to his feet and reach for his gun at the same time, failing both. His legs won’t work, and his gun doesn’t seem to be there. 

Malcolm is, though. He’s kneeling beside him and panting a bit, his breath clouding out in front of him. 

It’s cold. God, it’s cold...how could he have been ignoring that? It’s freezing. 

“What’s...going on?” Gil manages, and Malcolm cups his cheek, smiling nervously. 

“Well,” he says, “good news is I was right! His old work was where he was holed up. Just happened he tried to leave right from where we were coming in, and, um...he kinda got the best of us?”

He sighs, looking away. “Of me, really. He knocked you with a pot, and you went down, and...I went for you. Turned my back to him. I’m sorry. He put me in a choke-hold. And when I woke up...we were in here.”

Gil looks around at the empty shelves, one of which is what Malcolm had knocked to the ground in the corner, the rotting food items on a few of them. The old diner's walk-in freezer.

“It’s cold,” Gil says. “Why is it cold? The power’s been shut off to this place for months.”

“Well,” Malcolm says, standing up again and starting to jog in place. “Guess he hit the breakers before he left. Nice guy.”

“Bright,” Gil manages. “JT and Dani are chasing the other lead. I was your backup. They don’t know we’re here.”

“That’s the bad news,” Malcolm says. “There's always bad news. But...they should find us before we freeze to death, right?”

Gil stares at him, and then looks around. He hauls himself up, and then makes for the door.

Locked. Of course. 

"Yeah," he replies finally. "Yeah, I'm...I'm sure they will."

"How's your head?" Malcolm asks, coming closer. He touches the sore spot, gently, and Gil grimaces.

"Hurts," he grunts, and only this close notices the light ring of bruising around Malcolm's throat. "How are you?" 

"I've had worse," he says, grinning, but Gil knows it must be aching, his voice scratching every time he talks.

"We need to stay warm as long as we can," Gil says, and Malcolm looks up at him with the most adorable expression Gil has ever damn seen. 

"Hold me?" he asks, and Gil pushes him away by his shoulder and scoffs.

"No. Need to keep the blood moving. Jumping jacks, push-ups, that kind of thing." 

"This temperature is good for muscles aches," Malcolm says. "Like free, unwanted cryotherapy. For old people, like you."

Gil gently pinches his arm. "Oh?"

"Ow! Yeah! How many push-ups can you do?"

"I guarantee it's more than you, kid." 

"Oh yeah? Wanna bet?" 

"Bet what?"

Malcolm looks around, and points. "I think that was food, at some point. You can have that if you win."

"Great," Gil laughs. "What a thrill. Go on. Get down. I'll keep count."

Malcolm doesn't win, but Gil still, so kindly, lets him keep the prize.

**x**

“G-Gil,” Malcolm says, leaning over to brace his hands on his knees and breathe hard. “I’m...I’m getting really cold.” 

Gil stops on the fifteenth push-up this time. It’s less than he should be able to do, what he’d just done before. He’s losing body heat; they both are. Their movements are becoming stiffer, more difficult. 

“I know,” Gil says. He brings himself up to his feet and hugs Malcolm, rubbing his arms. “It’s going to be okay.”

Malcolm nuzzles into whatever warmth he has left, humming, and noses against his neck. Gil jumps at just how icy his skin feels. 

“How long do you think it’s been?”

“Hour or two,” Gil says. “M-maybe a little longer.”

“Feels like forever,” Malcolm replies. “I’m...I’m…”

“Don’t finish that. Come on.”

Malcolm whines. “I’m too tired to exercise anymore.”

“We can’t stop.”

“No...can we do something else?” He smiles, and then starts to rock them a little. “We can dance. I want to dance.”

Gil tries to ignore the sudden wave of vertigo the movement causes, blinking hard. “Dance?”

“Dani turned me down. I think JT would hit me if I asked. Dance with me, Gil. I can hum and everything. I know a _plethora_ of songs.”

“I don’t think…” Gil cuts off, and sways a bit.

“Gil?”

“My head’s a little...” Gil says, and sinks down his knees, dragging Malcolm with him. 

“Gil! Gil, hey, hello?"

Gil blinks, once again leaning against the frosted wall, cold seeping through his clothes, and nods up at Malcolm as the kid cups both his cheeks. 

"What? I was listening. You were talking about...what were you…?"

Malcolm’s brows are furrowed in worry. “Gil, you fainted. I wasn't talking at all." 

"Well…” Gil says. “That's hard to believe."

" _Ha ha_. Let me see your head."

Gil leans forward, wincing as Malcolm touches where he was bashed, and Malcolm grimaces. 

“You definitely have a concussion,” he says. “The fainting is...really not a great sign.”

“Thank you, Dr. Bright,” Gil replies, without thinking.

Malcolm flinches and pulls back. 

Gil breathes out hard. “Shit. Malcolm, I’m sorry.”

“No, that’s...that’s fine.” He hugs himself, tucks his hand under one arm to hide the tremor. “I don’t know why that...you didn’t even say Whitly.”

“I shouldn’t have said it at all.” 

“Chalk it up to the whack you got,” Malcolm says, forcing a laugh. His eyes slide to the right, glazing over as he goes quiet. 

Gil feels awful. He’d do anything to protect the kid, and hurting him, especially with his own words, is the worst thing he can imagine. 

“I’m feeling better,” Gil says. He stands up, slowly, and ignores the dizziness, offering Malcolm his hand. “Come on. Let’s dance.” 

Malcolm smiles, and giggles, and nods, taking his hand.

**x**

The kid is fidgeting again. 

Gil’s been noticing it more and more often, in between the worsening nausea that makes him have to close his eyes and sit for a while. 

"Are you okay?" he asks finally.

Malcolm stops immediately, does one more awkward, half jumping jack, and then crosses his arms. "Yeah? I just...need a break."

Gil frowns, stopping his jogging to look at Malcolm incredulously. "You want a _break?_ Malcolm, we're trying to keep warm. We can't take a break."

"We can," Malcolm says, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Just a minute."

"Fine," Gil says, taking a breather, sitting on one of the overturned shelves, and then watches as Malcolm starts awkwardly around the perimeter of the freezer, inspecting it closely like he's looking for something.

"What are you doing?" Gil asks at Malcolm's third time around, because he just can't figure it out, and Malcolm whines softly, turning to face him.

"Can you, um—" Malcolm asks, and then rubs at his thighs with both hands and bends over a little. "Look...away? I really have to..."

_Oh._

Gil nods. He covers his eyes with an index finger and thumb, and hears shuffling towards the other side of the freezer, a _clang_ and an, "Ouch!" 

"Are you—"

"Don't look!"

"I'm not! Are you okay?"

"No! I have to pee and I'm cold and it's too quiet!" 

Gil cocks an eyebrow. "Too...quiet?" 

"...I'm…"

"Nervous?" Gil can't stop a chuckle, and Malcolm hisses his disapproval. 

"This isn't funny! It's serious!" 

"No, no! I wasn't laughing at you, I just—just try to relax, okay?"

"That's not helping! Agh…c-cover your ears!"

"Alright. Hmm...let's see…" 

He plugs his ears, keeping his eyes shut, and then starts to sing to fill the silence. He can't hear anything, so he finishes the song, and when he decides to open his eyes Malcolm is sitting in front of him, eyes half-lidded.

"Better?" he asks, and Malcolm nods. 

"Thank you," he replies. "I don't...I don't think I've ever heard you sing."

Gil hums. "I'm not very good."

"I b-b—beg to differ," Malcolm says. “You could've sung when we d-d-d—" His entire body shivers, violently, and he looks startled when it passes, softly finishing with, “...Danced."

Gil gets to his feet. "Come on. Break's over. Back to it."

And then he lurches forward, gags, and vomits over his shoes. 

“Oh, shit,” Malcolm says. “Gil…” 

“I’m, uh…” Gil manages, wiping his mouth with the back of his hands and clearing his throat. “Shit.”

“You need to sit down.” Malcolm grabs his arm, and Gil shakes his head. 

“If I sit, I'm going to freeze. Come on. Let go.” He forces himself into starting jumping jacks, and then throws up again, bracing himself on his knees. 

“Gil! Stop!” 

“I’m not dying here,” Gil rasps. “I’m not letting _you_ die here. I’ll be fine. Push-ups. Do them.”

“I don’t—”

Gil never raises his voice at him, not ever. So when he shouts, “Bright!” Malcolm flinches and _listens,_ drops to his hands and knees to obey without hesitation.

“Thank you,” Gil says, covering his eyes. He just needs a second. Just a second. He can march in place until he’s recovered enough to continue.

Malcolm strains himself this time, while Gil moves to brace himself against the wall with a hand. He only notices when he hears Malcolm start to whimper, and looks down to see his arms shaking hard enough he’s about to face-plant, sweat dripping off his face.

“Malcolm,” he murmurs, and Malcolm gasps in pain as he hits the floor. “Hey, kid—trying to keep warm, not hurt yourself.” 

“I don’t…” Malcolm says, panting, and gathers himself up to sit, tucking his knees against his chest and holding onto them. “I just don’t want to disappoint you anymore, Gil.” 

Gil frowns, getting to a knee beside him. "Kid...when have you disappointed me?"

"Every time I g-go without backup. It disappoints you. But I try, Gil. I try so h-hard."

"Hey…" Gil bops under his chin, gets him to look up again and smiles. "Bright. That's not disappointment. That's me trying to make sure you live to see tomorrow. I love you, kid. More than anything, and I want to make sure you're _okay._ Running off without b-b-backup is not good for Brights, okay? It ends with Brights in the hospital, and that's not where you belong."

"Where do I belong?" Malcolm asks, suddenly sounding so damn _small,_ and Gil smiles. 

"With me," he says. "Consulting for the NYPD, the thing you do best, by our side. With friends."

"Friends," Malcolm says airily, humming. "Thank you, Gil."

"You're welcome. Now get up. Jog a few laps. Come on."

"Yes sir, Lieutenant sir!" Malcolm says, saluting him, and Gil rolls his eyes.

" _Go."_

He watches the kid run, and realizes with a sinking feeling of dread that he's seeing two of him now.

**x**

It's been too long.

They're not going to come in time.

Gil's been trying to stay positive, but when Malcolm starts to become nearly incoherent in his stammering, he also starts to fall asleep. 

Even standing up, his eyes are closing. Gil takes off his own coat, wraps Malcolm up in it, and gently smacks his face.

"Jog," he says, and Malcolm shakes his head.

"C-c-can't anym-more," he says. "G-Gil...so...c-cold…"

"I know! It helps! C-come on! D-do it, Malcolm!" Gil says, starting jumping jacks of his own. "P-push-ups, then! Do s-so—something!"

"I, um...s-so sle—sleepy," Malcolm mumbles, getting down to his knees, and then he topples over onto his side and curls up.

"Bright!" Gil is beside him in an instant, shaking his shoulders. "Hey! N-n, no, kid, you have to g-get up. You have to st-tay warm!" 

Malcolm only squeezes his eyes shut. "C-c—can't," he says. "T-too cold."

Gil rubs his hands together, pressing them to Malcolm's face when they've heated up enough with the friction, and then pulls him close, sits against a shelf and holds Malcolm tightly. He's too goddamn skinny, too goddamn unhealthy. Gil is relieved he's lasted this long.

"We c-can...r-rest," Gil agrees. He slumps, exhausted, and buries his face into Malcolm's neck to try and barricade his skin from the cold air, freezing even faster now without his jacket.

Malcolm's skin is no warmer, and Gil knows right then that neither of them will be getting back up.

**x**

They talk about the case. They talk about Dani, JT, Jessica, Ainsley, and Jackie, until they can't focus enough to talk anymore.

And then Malcolm screams. He starts trying to climb further into Gil’s lap, stepping on him and driving limbs into his sore body and stomach.

"Malcolm! Stop, wh-what's—"

"D-don't let him!" Tears are freezing on his cheeks, and he cries into Gil's shoulder. "Please! P-p-please, Gil, I don't—make him g-go away, please!"

"N-no one's here," Gil says, rubbing his back. "I promise, kid. There's no one here. No one but me and you." 

He hears Malcolm keep sniffling and whimpering, and adds, "He's n-not real, Bright. L-listen to my v-voice. He's _not here_."

Slowly, Malcolm relaxes. It's likely he just doesn't have the energy to continue. 

"Sh-sh—sh—shit," Malcolm says after a long while of silence, giggling weakly. "I—I-I'm—"

"I-I know." Gil holds him closer, uses numb fingers to make sure his jacket is zipped up all the way around Malcolm. "J-just...k-keep awake. J-just...just f-focus on m-my voice, it’s…” 

He leans over as far as he can, heaving bile over his sleeve, and moans. "It's go-gonna...be f-f-fine...gonna..."

“G-g-gonna die,” Malcolm says. 

“Y-you...are _not._ ”

“N-not...not...even...c-c-cold an-anymore.” 

“F-fuck,” Gil manages, holding him closer, but he can't hold him close _enough_ to make him warm again. “P-please. St-tay awake. I l-love you." 

He knows Malcolm tries. He tries, too.

But he knows eventually, soon, they're both going to fail.

And soon Malcolm does. He drifts off, head lolling, and Gil shakes him back awake.

"You c-c-can't," he says. "You c-can't leave m-me, k-kid."

"L...love...you…t-too," Malcolm mumbles. "S-sorry…s-sleepy...s-so warm…"

"Y-you're not," Gil tries to explain, but he's too tired. He's just too damn tired.

So he keeps talking.

He sings.

Until his lips are too frozen to move anymore, and he's just too damn tired, and he's forced to go quiet.

**x**

Gil can’t feel an inch of his body anymore. Can’t feel himself holding Malcolm. Can’t feel how still Malcolm is.

“M-Ma-Mal—” 

Malcolm doesn’t respond. His eyes are closed, frost on his eyelashes, his lips pale white.

Gil’s falling asleep, too, and it scares him that he can’t stop it. 

“Don’t try.”

Gil, somehow, manages to crane his head to look up, and he gasps. 

_Not possible._

“You’re dying, _mi amor,”_ his lover says, and he shivers harder than ever as Jackie kneels beside him, cupping his cheeks. 

Oh, she’s so warm. She’s so warm. It brings feeling back to his body, feeling he hasn’t felt since she was taken from him. Oh, she’s beautiful...so beautiful...so wonderful...so perfect.

“I can’t be,” he says, struggling. “Malcolm.”

“Oh, our sweet boy.” Jackie smiles. She runs her hand through Malcolm’s ice-covered hair, over his frozen face. “He’s not gone yet, but his heart is barely beating now.”

“No.” No, God, _no._ Gil tries to reach up, to feel for a pulse, but she catches his hand, holds it to her chest.

“You can let go,” she says, sitting beside him. “There’s no shame in that.”

Gil hates that he considers it, even for a second. And then—

“Malcolm,” he chokes. “Malcolm. He needs me.”

“He can come,” she tells him, stroking through Gil’s hair now, a feeling he hasn’t felt in far too long. “It’s so beautiful here. I can show you. We can be a family again, together forever.”

“I miss you so much,” Gil sobs. “I miss you. I miss you, Jacks...I miss you…”

“Then come.” She stands up, and he cries out. 

“Don’t go! Please don’t go.” He reaches out, desperately. “Please...please, Jacks, don’t go. _Please._ ”

She smiles at him, bright as ever, and gestures for him to follow.

He clutches Malcolm closer, and sobs into the kid’s shoulder. 

“Can’t,” he says. “I can’t.”

“Not yet, then,” Jackie says. “You’re a strong man, Gil Arroyo. And that’s why I love you. That’s why I’ll always love you. Remember that.”

Gil raises his head, and she kisses him. It feels so real, her lips pressed against his, and he closes his eyes.

When he opens them, she’s further away, and a light floods in from beyond. He wonders if it’s Heaven.

“Don’t go,” he whispers. 

“I love you, _mi amor,”_ she says. "I'll see you again someday." 

And then she smiles, and goes anyways.

The light stays. There are shadows beyond it. Shouting he can’t quite make out. 

Heaven sounds loud. Too loud.

He has to stay here with Malcolm, anyways.

His eyes slide closed for a final time, the ghost sensation of Jackie’s lips against his the last thing he’s aware of.

**x**

He's warm.

Briefly, he wonders if he went with her after all.

And then he wakes, ever slowly. His eyes flutter open, and Gil groans softly.

"Hey there, old man." 

That's...Dani's voice. 

Dani. The wonderful girl he's protected and cared for over the years he's worked with her, shadowed her like the father she never really had.

Dani, who knows damn well better than to call him _old._

He almost laughs. Too weak. And then he remembers Malcolm, cursing himself for ever forgetting.

"Mal…"

Dani smiles at him, stepping aside, and Gil turns his head to see the kid lying on room's other bed. He's unconscious, but he has color. His lips are pink again, his breaths steady and deep and even.

He's alive.

"You almost died," JT says, approaching from his spot in the corner chair. "Like, seriously. We got to you just in time. Jesus, we looked everywhere for you. We even _got_ the guy. You were just passing out when we got there, but...the kid was almost gone."

The light. The light had been the freezer door opening. It had been them, saving their lives.

"They had to... _rewarm_ all your blood," Dani says with a wince, "which, I don't even want to know about. Sounds gross. But yeah, everything went well. Surprisingly. Other than the heart attacks you gave us. But we'll live, too."

"He's gonna be okay?" Gil asks, and Dani pats his hand and smiles.

"Yeah, Gil. You're both gonna be just fine."

She holds up Gil's wedding ring from the bag of his belongings, and Gil takes his gratefully, slipping it back on and clutching his hand to his chest.

"I saw her," Gil says quietly. "I think Bright saw his dad. It was...it was…"

"Yeah...you're probably gonna feel a little uncomfortable in the frozen food aisle for a while," JT says, and Dani slaps his arm. 

"Ow! I'm being lighthearted!"

" _Dick."_

"You saved our lives," Gil says, chuckling. "Thank you both." 

"Sure thing, boss man," JT replies. "It's becoming a regular thing. I kinda love it. Reminds me we're needed."

"Hmm," Malcolm says, doubtfully, and Gil sits up a little more as JT turns around with an amused huff.

"Hmm _what,_ little kid? You think you'd have got outta that one by yourself? You'd'a been a Bright-cicle."

Malcolm smiles weakly, still without opening his eyes, and Gil relaxes as they continue to banter.

He touches his band, and Dani touches his wrist.

"You'll see her again," she says. "One day."

Gil smiles, and closes his eyes.


End file.
